Homecoming
by Just A Bay
Summary: The Tenth Squad Alibi. It's a unit of twelve teenagers selected for their athletic prowess, intelligence, and interest in a future with SHIELD, to be used only when absolutely necessary. They don't see action often, annoy the older agents, and are responsible for the Brighton Incident of 2008 (but that's classified). "This is absolutely necessary," Coulson announced.


**A/N: First, hi.**

**Second, if anyone knows what Rumlow's strike team is called, feel free to let me know. In CA:TWS I don't remember him calling them anything other than 'strike' but if I'm mistaken please correct me. I used colors for lack of creative inspiration.**

**Third, please review. I'm not sure how long this story will be but plan on weekly updates until it's done. (I'm thinking around seven chapters)**

There were several things Clint Barton did not like about his job.

A few were obvious, such as the irregular hours, sleepless nights, crappy benefits, and constant possibility of torture by terrorists. Despite the fact that there were perks to the assassination and espionage business (his ex-Russian partner came to mind) very few things made up for the mountains of paperwork and tedious hours of debriefings he dealt with on a seemingly daily basis. Pre-mission, post-mission, no mission. It didn't matter, if there was something happening in Qubec, or Lithuania, or Malta, Coulson was going to debrief them about it. There had even been one about what was happening in the arctic, and nobody even lived there.

So there Strike Team Delta sat on a Thursday afternoon, in one of the many debriefing rooms aboard the third level of the helicarrier, alone with Agent Coulson as he droned on and on about the information in the files they now held and the mission they would begin in Wisconsin the coming Saturday evening. Natasha, ever the more patient one when it came to human interaction, was politely paying attention and following along as Coulson began filling them in on unimportant details.

"You two are being called in to run, supervise, and provide backup as necessary for an asset extraction and target elimination in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Intel says the asset, Jonathon Powell, is being targeted by a sublevel splinter cell of Advanced Idea Mechanics for potential information on a new sort of bio-energy source using algae growing in a nearby lake. He's on our radar for the same reason. This is one asset we don't want to lose."

"Other than Tony Stark, are there ever any assets we want to lose?" Barton asked boredly, having been through rescuing valuable SHIELD assets way too many times to be entertained by mission parameters.

Coulson continued as though Barton hadn't spoken. "He, with our resources, has the potential to create a renewable clean energy source without depending on alien technology. This is top priority," Phil made eye contact with Barton across the table as he said that, as though the archer wasn't going to like what came next, "and you will follow all the mission plans, get the asset, and eliminate the threat by any means necessary. Is that clear?"

"You're talking like I'm not going to like what you want me to do. Is it cross-dressing again? Because I meant what I said about murder after that failure that was Budapest."

"You don't get a say in this plan. It's been written and approved, all you need to do is extract the asset from his cover as a high school science teacher and then locate and eliminate the AIM splinter that poses a threat." He repeated.

"That sounds simple enough." He muttered suspiciously. What was Coulson holding back? Natasha remained a silent presence beside him, studying the intel in the file closely. His own copy remained unopened before him. "Who's on the team we're leading?" Coulson paused, studying him closely, then proceeded to ignore him again and continue providing other apparently random details.

"This Friday night the Eau Claire Memorial high school football team has their homecoming game against the Menomonie Mustangs. The game is being celebrated with a parade for the community and a dance for the student body. Lots of commotion, lots of distractions, it's the perfect time for someone to take a shot at kidnapping our guy. The asset, as part of his cover as a high school teacher, was assigned to supervise the dance on Saturday night. Intel suggests that's when the AIM unit plans to strike – they don't only want him, they want the work he's done in the science rooms. You're taking a team to infiltrate the school."

"Sounds easy. Who are we taking in with us? Stealth teams?"

"Intel calls for a ground strike unit, three inside men, and the Tenth Squad Alibi."

Barton groaned loudly at his words. "Why?" He demanded. Coulson, doing his best to get comfortable in his standard metal chair, merely leaned back and folded his arms, setting a tablet and file onto the table before him. Obviously, he had dealt with Agent Barton's temper tantrums several times before.

The Tenth Squad Alibi was a group of twelve teenagers specifically chosen for their athletic prowess and interest in a future with SHIELD. A majority were sons and daughters of current or ex agents; the rest came from recruiting at sporting events and competitions around the nation. SHIELD maintained nine squads with twelve kids on each squad, stationed at various strategic locations around the states. While they didn't see real action often, they were useful in situations such as these – when high school agents were needed and no one else could pull off getting inside the student body. Unfortunately, due to the fact that they didn't see action often, they were highly inexperienced and untried in combat. This, as well as the impression that they were babysitting (and also their tendency to improvise wildly), was the main reason most senior agents did not enjoy working with the semi-talented young group. Some, like Barton, had completely different reasons for being annoyed any time they were brought up.

"I won't work with the stupid kids. If you want this mission done right, and I think you do, send in someone who can get it done with no flare and no mishaps. We can use a couple junior agents, dress them up all pretty, send them dancing merrily, and let them handle the asset while we kill the bad guys. It's not complicated. Don't tell me you need reminding of the Brighton incident of 2008?"

Agent Coulson visibly winced at the reminder of that particular scandal. "That part of the squad has graduated and several have become very promising agents. There was no long term side effects-" he ignored Barton's pointed snort, "to their rather… novel… techniques and the overall mission was a success. While I don't always trust them to keep their raging teenage hormones under control, they are required for missions of this nature. This is why we have the unit in the first place. It's not possible for enough of our junior agents to pull off being high schoolers again to fill the parameters. We have no other options."

"Put Tasha inside!" He ignored the harsh elbow in the ribs from the silent red-head beside him and plowed on. "Make a cover that she's a teacher or a secretary or something. Hell, make her the damn librarian. There are ways to do this without using a group of high schoolers who can't keep their hands off each other long enough to get the mission specs." His copy of the folder holding all current intel gathered on the asset and threat remained unopened before him, the hard copy papers looking out of place in the sleek and modern room. Coulson held another copy of the same file in his lap, sitting straight and still across the cold table from Clint and Natasha.

"Deal with it. We don't have time to plant anyone deep enough into the school before this goes critical. Their trainers and handlers have been contacted and they'll be meeting you at a safe house to prepare before the mission goes live on Saturday night." Coulson's tone left no room for argument, though his eyes betrayed his earlier hesitations about the untried and unproven group of kids. "The Alibi group will be undercover inside with the asset while you watch their perimeter. If AIM makes a move, you and the strike team need to be ready to have their backs and get them and Mr. Powell out of there. End of discussion." Coulson looked down and moved things around on the touch screen he held. "Who do you want for a ground strike unit? It looks like Strike Teams Green, Indigo, and-"

"I want Indigo. Rumlow gets shit done." Barton, still unhappy with the teenagers being used, felt no guilt for interrupting his handler. Besides, if the inside help was completely useless, at least the backup ground strike team could be counted on to take down their mark, even if their captain was a man of questionable morals. In this business, it didn't matter what sort of morals you had so long as they kept you alive.

Coulson, again, ignored the interruption and typed in several commands to the tablet he now held. "Strike Team Indigo is cleared for duty. Intel recommends two other inside men, I'm giving you three. They've got a spot as a police officer and a parent of one of the students. We'll modify that to two different parents…" He made notes for several minutes on his tablet before looking up at Natasha suddenly. "Who do you want in the building with the kids?"

"What are you doing next Saturday?" Clint grumbled jokingly, glancing to his partner. Though she hadn't spoken yet he knew she had her own opinions about who she preferred to work with if they couldn't go alone. Again, Coulson ignored him.

"I would recommend Agents Stone, Harpson, and Nires." His tone was patronizing.

Natasha spoke for the first time in an impassive and monotone voice. "Not Harpson." She offered no further explanation but Coulson didn't question her and moved to type more codes onto his tablet.

Clint looked over to Coulson again. "I want Agent Handaz."

"Agent Handaz is currently on a mission."

"Where?"

"That's classified." Barton shot Coulson a look of annoyance from across the steel table. Natasha remained silent, absently playing with a pen, studying the file in her lap. Coulson looked up from his tablet briefly. "You can have Agent Jones or Agent Ward."

Clint looked at his partner to his left. Talking without words, they silently agreed, Natasha immediately going back to her file and Barton returning to making Coulson's life difficult. "We'll take Ward."

With that, Coulson typed a final few keys into his tablet, gathered his papers, pushed back the straight-backed chair he was sitting on, and stood up. The noise of the chair being forced across the floor was deafening in the hard echoing of the metal room. "Operation: Homecoming goes live in fifty six hours. Please don't do anything stupid until it's over." With that, he walked out of the room and into the hallway beyond, closing the door softly behind him.

With Phil gone, Clint turned to his partner, the annoyed feeling in his chest loosening slightly. "I hate working with these kids." He told her softly, momentarily entranced by the imperial red of her hair. "They have their whole lives ahead of them. Why are they putting themselves on the fast track to nowhere?"

"They made a choice." Natasha told him clearly, looking him in the eye. "They were signed up for this."

"That doesn't make it okay. I didn't know then what I know now. They shouldn't be making life altering decisions when they can't even do calculus."

"You can't do calculus."

"And I made bad decisions. There's a common factor here."

"They'll be fine. You know Phil wouldn't call them in unless he felt it was necessary."

"Remember the Brighton Incident?"

"I find it very hard to believe that anyone could forget." With that, Natasha gathered her papers and stood, shifting the plain folder in her hands. Clint moved to follow, hastily grabbing his unopened file and pushing in his chair. Together they exited into the noisy hallway, wordlessly heading for the training room, the bustling of the corridor parting around the pair like rocks in a river.

Hawkeye and Black Widow moved down the hallway, leaving silence in their wake.

**Just a Bay**


End file.
